


Anatomically Correct

by phantomunmasked



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, I have no idea what I'm doing guys, berena - Freeform, i'm not a smut writer i'm a shameless angst/domestic fluff writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomunmasked/pseuds/phantomunmasked
Summary: First off, all the thanks to my lovely brain twin, @muddlethrough. I don't know what i'd do without her to bounce ideas off without judgment.Right. So this entire fic grew out of an idea I had about Bernie wanting Serena's first time with her to be as comfortable as possible. And that kind of led to the wild thought that Bernie would get it into her brain that maybe being "anatomically correct" (read: a feel/realdoe) would ease things along (pretty sure it won't, but isn't Bernie sweet for trying). I don't write smut very often, so this was just my wild stab in the dark with things. Hope I got things right, I guess!





	1. Delivery for Ms Wolfe

**Author's Note:**

> First off, all the thanks to my lovely brain twin, @muddlethrough. I don't know what i'd do without her to bounce ideas off without judgment.
> 
> Right. So this entire fic grew out of an idea I had about Bernie wanting Serena's first time with her to be as comfortable as possible. And that kind of led to the wild thought that Bernie would get it into her brain that maybe being "anatomically correct" (read: a feel/realdoe) would ease things along (pretty sure it won't, but isn't Bernie sweet for trying). 
> 
> I don't write smut very often, so this was just my wild stab in the dark with things. 
> 
> Hope I got things right, I guess!

“Your package will be delivered in 3-5 working days,” the email had read.  
  
3-5 working days.  
  
Today was thursday. 5 working days later.  
  
Bernie huffed an irritated sigh as she blew her fringe out her eyes, contemplated the growing pile of paperwork on her desk even as she clicked the email closed.  
  
“Nothing to do but wait, I suppose,” she muttered under her breath, pulling the file at the top of the towering stack towards her. Absently tapping her pen against her lip she began to read and fill in the discharge papers for one Mr James Cunningham, unfortunate enough to have had three of his toes amputated.

 

“Good morning, good morning, good morning,” a familiar voice accompanied the creak of the office door being shoved open as Serena blustered in.  
  
“Morning,” Bernie responded absently, brow furrowed as she mentally recalculated the dosage of Tramadol prescribed to Mr Cunningham. She barely even registered the warm hand on her shoulder or the kiss dropped against her temple.

 

“What’s gone wrong now?” Serena’s voice was cheery despite her obvious concern, and Bernie sighed in resignation as she threw down her pen, scrubbed a hand across her face.

 

“I’ve spent the past forty-five minutes trying to figure out why Mr Cunningham has been prescribed _quite so much_ Tramadol.”  
“Oh honestly, Bernie, just correct the prescription and send him on his way!”  
“But-”  
“No buts, so long as we’re within regulation limits I don’t see what the problem is?”  
“But-”

“Who wrote the prescription?”  
“The overnight covering.”  
“Mr Gupta?”  
“That’s the one.”  
“Here, let me see,” Serena held out a hand and Bernie obediently handed the file over, exchanging it with a grateful smile for the cup of coffee that Serena had brought for her.

 

She hummed in satisfaction as she sipped; black coffee, doctored with an extra shot of espresso, just the way she liked it.

 

“Hmmm… Says here that Mr Cunningham has had Tramadol prescribed before, from when he had his spleen out, but that he complained the dose was too low to have much effect. I’d imagine that was why Mr Gupta decided it was safe to give him a little more,” Serena leafed through the file, tapping a triumphant finger against Mr Cunningham’s previous clinical notes.

 

“Yes, but that’s still a big jump in doses, don’t you think?”  


Bernie took another sip of her coffee, wrapped her free arm self-consciously around her ribs as she watched Serena contemplate the issue.

 

“Mmm, yes, I do see what you mean. Still, I don’t think he’s at any risk even if we do give him this higher dose, unless you have any other concerns?”

  
“Well, I did examine him this morning and he did seem a little…”  
“Yes?”  
“... on the hypochondriac side of things?”  
“Ah. I see.”

 

Serena snapped the file closed with a flick of her wrist and gave it back to Bernie, eyes twinkling as she came closer.  
  
“In that case, then, _Ms Wolfe,_ you must do what you think is right,” she drawled, setting the file down on Bernie’s desk even as she crowded her against it.  
  
“Now, someone owes me a proper Good Morning, I think,”  Serena murmured, pressing close to steal a kiss. It wasn’t quite as chaste as it should have been (but then again, anything that involved Serena Campbell rarely was) and Bernie whimpered a little as Serena pulled away, nipped at her bottom lip.

 

“Good morning,” Bernie whispered, swallowing hastily as Serena smirked and dropped one last peck on her cheek before wandering back to her own side of their office.

 

“What do you have on today, then?” Serena flipped through her own diary, glancing down at her theatre list for the day.  
  
“Splenectomy at 11, then a liver resection after lunch. That is, if the red phone doesn’t ring,” Bernie replied, settling back at her desk to scribble in Mr Cunningham’s revised Tramadol prescription.

 

“Good, good, I’ve got that gall bladder removal at 10 and then Mr Whitford’s leg to fix in the afternoon. Lunch together?”  
  
“Yup, sounds like a plan.” Bernie glanced up at Serena and gave her a shy smile, not quite hiding her blush as Serena sipped from her own cup of coffee and fairly _smouldered_ at her.

 

“Oh, before I forget, something came for you yesterday when you were in theatre. I signed for it, I hope you don’t mind?”

 

_3-5 working days._

 

Bernie’s heart leapt to her throat even as she leapt out of her chair.

 

“I- uh-”  
“It’s just a package, Bernie.”  
  
And now Serena was looking at her with genuine concern, that familiar eyebrow creeping higher and higher as she took in the degree of Bernie’s flustered panic.

 

“Yes yes. Erm. Thank you,” Bernie stammered as she all but tripped over her feet to retrieve the package from Serena’s desk.  
  
“My my, must be something _exciting_ , then. Care to share?”  


Quite involuntarily Bernie’s eyes fluttered closed and she barely managed to bite back a moan by chewing on her lower lip.

 

Damn that woman and _that voice_ of hers.  
  
“Why _Ms Wolfe_ , you’ve gone all red,” Serena’s voice was that familiar low purr now, and Bernie had no doubt she presented a right picture; she could feel the blood pounding in her ears and flushing across her cheeks.

 

_Deep breath, Bern. Poker face._

 

 “If you really must know, it’s Cameron’s present. I, uh… Got him something to celebrate him maybe going back to med school.” Bernie’s lie rushed out of her in a single breath.  
  
Serena’s cocked eyebrow told her that she disbelieved every single word that Bernie just uttered. Squaring her shoulders, Bernie decided the best course of action was to stare Serena down. This was a matter of principle, now. She couldn’t just crumble whenever Serena decided to let _that voice_ come out to play.

 

The seconds ticked by.

 

Bernie stood her ground.

 

“Well then, a mystery for another day, I suppose,” came Serena’s response after several long moments of charged silence between them.  


One last smirk and Serena bent her attention to her own paperwork, humming slightly under her breath as she flicked through her patient’s notes.  
  
Bernie let out a silent sigh and quickly stashed her package under her desk, shoved it deep into her satchel.

 

  
It wouldn’t do to have her girlfriend (the word still felt foreign to her; Alex and her had skipped girlfriend and gone straight on to _lover_ ) knowing _exactly_ what she had ordered online.


	2. Practice Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie... practices.

It had been a long day.    
  


Then again, every day on AAU was a long day; it was simply a matter of degree. 

 

“Shake it off, Major,” Bernie muttered as she kicked her door shut, juggling her bag of takeout with her overstuffed satchel. The package peeked out one side and she gave it a sideways glance as she chucked her bag onto her sofa.    
  
She’d deal with  _ it _ later.    
  


The routine of coming home to an empty home was familiar to her now. Three months as a divorcee (and several weeks more separated from her husband) and she’d gotten the hang of sleeping alone, cooking meals for one. 

 

It wasn’t as lonely as she thought it was going to be.    
  
Especially since Serena… well since Serena  _ happened. _

  
(she’d never forget those first tremulous kisses she’d pressed to her colleague’s lips, the sharp sting of fear as she pulled back, certain that she’d ruined  _ everything because that was what she did _ but then Serena had kissed her back, placed her hands on her arms and pulled her close, breathed her in with the same desperation and hunger that burned for so long in Bernie’s bones) 

 

A wistful smile quirked Bernie’s lips at the memory as she moved about, stripping out of her work clothes, flinging her bra and pants into her laundry basket with unerring precision. A long moan dragged itself from her lips as she turned the spray on, relishing the heat pounding down on her shoulders.    
  
“ _ So  _ worth the extra £50 in rent,” Bernie groaned as she dug her fingers into her scalp, thoroughly enjoying the scent of her shampoo. Juniper and mint - a gift from Serena, who had picked it up at some artisanal stall at Cambridge when she was last there to visit Elinor. 

  
“It just… reminded me of you,” Serena had said, a slight flush creeping up her chest as she handed the bottle over.    
  
“Sorry it isn’t wrapped,” she had continued, eyes fixed on Bernie’s collar as she rubbed her palms against her thighs, watched Bernie uncap the bottle and take a tentative sniff. 

 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Bernie had smiled, and rewarded Serena with a long kiss, raking her fingers into Serena’s hair as she deepened it. 

 

An appreciative hum rumbled from Bernie’s chest at the thought of Serena’s lips on hers yet again, the entirely unreserved, unadulterated way she’d sought entry and won it, hands strong and hard and demanding that Bernie give her  _ more, more, more _ . Quite despite herself Bernie found herself biting her lip as her sponge brushed against somewhere  _ extremely sensitive indeed  _ as she lathered, her hips jerking inadvertently at the sensation. 

 

“Ohhhh. Bernie. Get a grip, get a grip.” It was with no small amount of effort that Bernie pulled her hand away, concentrated  _ hard  _ on getting clean instead. They’d agreed to wait until Serena was ready; the only problem was that Serena  _ always  _ seemed ready, her hands and lips and tongue and teeth all but commanding Bernie, unspoken, to stake her claim. It was a daily exercise in discipline and self-control and slow-burning madness, and sometimes, under covers and in the silent dark, Bernie sought her own relief, imagining that wine-dark voice in her ear and those grasping hands on her skin even as her own fingers curled within her and she came apart with a gasp and tears in her eyes.

 

As she turned the water off and stepped out of the stall, Bernie quite unashamedly looked her own reflection in the eye and nodded.    
  
Tonight was going to be one of those nights. 

 

(especially with  _ the package _ now in her possession)  

  
Drying off, she didn’t bother with tying her robe shut, padding directly instead to her sofa to fish the package from its confines. Her phone blinked at her and she reached for that first, grinning as she realised that it was Serena that had left her a voicemail.

  
“Bernie? It’s me. Just wanted to let you know that we’re all booked for that weekend away in the Cotswolds. I got us a little cottage; it’s pretty isolated, so we can do what we like for as long as we want to and be as loud as we want to be whilst doing it.”    
  
A pause, and then a dark drawl that stole Bernie’s breath from her. 

 

“Pack wisely, Major. We’re going to have fun.”    
  
Serena’s voice was sex personified, and Bernie drew in a shaky breath, sat heavily on her sofa, fingers digging into the flesh of her inner thigh as she listened to the message once, twice, four times over. 

 

Oh yes, tonight was most  _ definitely  _ going to be one of those nights. 

 

Bernie tucked her phone into the pocket of her robe and reached for the package. Deft fingers made quick work of the packaging and she soon had  _ it  _ before her. Deciding that the bedroom was probably a more suitable venue (her back really wasn’t up to any fun, especially not on her rather lumpy sofa), Bernie did a quick check that the front door was locked and shoved her dinner (it could wait) in the fridge before stumbling into her bedroom with her purchase. 

 

Setting it down on the bed before her, she knelt, regarded it at eye level. Wordlessly inserting the batteries into the small silver bullet that had come in the package, Bernie assembled it, took a deep breath before clicking it on. 

 

She jumped as it hummed to life, resonating across her duvet as it skittered, slightly sideways. A startled laugh and she reached out to take in hand, gripped it firmly.    
  
“You’re larger than I thought you would be,” she muttered, clicking it off. It lay innocently enough in her hand, its smooth contours ever so familiar to Bernie after the many hours she had spent fretting over whether to buy it or not. 

 

Carefully, she took her mobile from her robe pocket, played Serena’s latest message three more times on loudspeaker. Bernie scrambled to lie on top of her duvet, crooking one knee as the open halves of her robe slipped apart. She held her purchase with one hand above her, contemplating it as her other hand drifted lazily down, brushing against skin and warm flesh. 

 

“What would Serena make of you, then?” she murmured, turning it this way and that, nimble fingers dancing ever downwards to tease. 

 

_ She’d probably have some innuendo laden remark ready, and you know it, _ her mind answered, and Bernie flushed, moaned as she thought of the many,  _ many  _ suggestive things that Serena had said. 

 

“Pack wisely, she said. Well. Shall I take you on holiday with us, then?” Bernie mumbled, even as she rolled to rummage in her bedside table for the familiar bottle stashed in its depths. 

 

“Come on, Bernie. You’re familiar with the theory… Now for the practical,” she muttered as she rose onto her knees, one hand slick with lubricant. Her eyes fluttered closed and she thought again of Serena, the long line of her neck just begging to be marked, the smoke-dark voice that  _ did things  _ to Bernie; the flush that graced her chest whenever Bernie nipped just a little too hard at Serena’s skin, the small moan that had inadvertently escaped Serena when Bernie had sucked, one fine day, on Serena’s earlobe. 

 

With one long exhale she sank down, hissed at the sting of the stretch. Panting, she breathed through it for a few long moments, one hand making lazy circles across overheated skin as her eyes remained shut, picturing how dark and widely blown Serena’s pupils had been the last time Bernie kissed her, pressed against the wall with one hand up the front of her blouse and the other down the back of her trousers, desperately touching, grasping whatever she could. 

 

Her hips had set up a rhythm of their own accord, and Bernie arched backwards, one hand fisting in her duvet as the other stroked in counterpoint to her hips. 

  
_ Give in to it,  _ she thought, grunting slightly as she felt her calf cramp, her lower back twinge. 

 

_ Serena.  _

 

“Yes, yes, yes,  _ please, _ ” Bernie’s thoughts flowed from her in a babble as she came, collapsing sideways, shuddering through the aftermath. 

 

It was some time before she managed coherent thought again, and she reached down, winced a little as she pulled her purchase - no,  _ valuable investment _ \- from her.  

 

“Looks like you’re coming with us, then,” Bernie panted, staring wide-eyed at it where it lay, glistening, on the duvet next to her. She rolled onto her back, huffed her sweaty fringe out of her eyes with an incredulous smile. A shaky chuckle or two and she reached for her mobile again, fumbled to play Serena’s voicemail once more.

 

Oh, they were most certainly going to have  _ fun  _ on their holiday, even if it killed her (or caused her brain to leak out her ears from sheer  _ pleasure _ ). 

 


	3. Hello, it's me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena gives Bernie a call. 
> 
> Fun times ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written phonesex. 
> 
> Ever. 
> 
> Also, this was the first draft. Un-beta-ed, so any and all mistakes are all mine. 
> 
> I can only apologise if I didn't get them right. I tried.

“Hello?”

“Bernie?”

“Hi, Serena,” Bernie wedged her mobile between ear and shoulder, hefting her favourite bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other.

 

“You alright?”   
“Yeah, fine, fine, just settling down for a drink.”

“Ah, good. I just wanted to call to check if you got my message about the Cotswolds.”   
  
Bernie blushed furiously at that, settling the whiskey bottle with a _thunk_ that was slightly too loud on the coffee table as she swallowed, audibly.

 

“I- uh, ahem. Yes. Yes, I received your message,” she stammered, wincing as she took a hasty gulp of whiskey.

“Good, good - are you quite alright?”   
“Fine!” Bernie gasped, taking care to put her glass gently down next to the bottle as the alcohol burned its way through her.

 

“Are you sure? You sound breathless.” Serena’s concern was palpable.

“Took slightly too big a gulp of whiskey is all,” Bernie managed to wheeze, massaging her sternum. She could feel the flush rising, knew from experience the blush that covered her chest, her neck, her cheeks.

 

“My my, Ms Wolfe. ”

 

A telling pause, and Bernie exhaled a shaky breath.

 

_Was she going to... ?_

 

“One would almost say I made you nervous.” Serena’s voice had dipped half an octave, and Bernie inhaled, sharply, nails digging into her upper thighs at the sound.

 

_Oh. Yes._

 

“N-n-nervous?” she stammered back, hastily swiping at her phone so it was on loudspeaker, placing it on the coffee table next to her glass.

 

“Mmmm… Tell me, Ms Wolfe. Are you sitting comfortably?”   
  
_She was._

 

Bernie nodded, head bobbing incessantly up and down until she realised belatedly that Serena could not see her.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. And... Let me guess. Black, skinny jeans. A button up of some description.”

“The b-black one,” Bernie stuttered, staring wide-eyed at her mobile as Serena hummed in consideration.

“Yes, I know just the one.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Unbutton it,” Serena commanded, voice like dark silk wrapping about Bernie’s arousal-fogged brain.

 

Her fingers flew to comply, and for a moment she simply sat there, wondering _just what she had gotten herself into_.

 

“I’ve always enjoyed you in black, Bernie. Have I told you how much? I love the way it sets off your skin - you positively _glow_ when you wear black.”

“...Thank you.”   
“Mmm… Yes. Such beautiful skin, too. I wonder if you have any tan-lines from Afghanistan, hmm? I should find out, shouldn’t I, when we get to the Cotswolds? Aren’t I a lucky girl, having you all to myself for a whole weekend”

“Serena -”

“Shhh. Close your eyes.”   
  
Bernie groaned and complied, tipping her head back to rest against the back of the sofa.

 

“Do you want to know what I’m wearing, Bernie?”   
  
A rustle of what sounded like sheets, and Bernie licked her lips, croaked out her answer.

 

“Yes?”

“Well, i’ve just taken my top off and climbed into bed. So i’m down to my bra and trousers. And you?”   
  
The unspoken command was clear and Bernie shrugged out of her shirt, tossed it aside.

 

“Same,” she managed to rasp, hands clenching and unclenching where they lay beside her thighs.

 

“Good girl,” Serena purred, and Bernie couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her when she heard the hitch in Serena’s breath that followed.

 

“What...What are you doing?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Mmm… Imagining you were here, of course. Imagining your touch, your kiss. Where would you like to have kissed me, Bernie?”

“...”

“Would you like to kiss me on my lips?”   
“...Yes.”   
“Where else?”

“...Your neck,” she managed, giving in to the temptation, slipping a warm hand under her bra to squeeze and tease.

“Mmmm. Yes, please. Where else?”

“Down your sternum,” Bernie gasped, reaching back to unhook her bra. It landed with a soft thump on top of her rumpled shirt.

“Only my sternum? I must admit, i’m a little...disappointed,” Serena’s pout was audible, and Bernie tipped her head back, raked her nails across her stomach with one hand as she toyed with herself with the other, biting her lip to keep her whine of frustration in. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, eyes fluttering shut as she imagined Serena, in bed, sheets a tangled mess about her.

“Your breasts,” Bernie gritted out, pinching and twisting at her own as she did.

“What about them?”

 

Serena’s voice was dirty innocence personified, and Bernie growled, gave a nipple a hard pinch as she replied.

 

“I’d like to kiss your breasts, Serena.”

“Only kiss them?”

“...no?”

“I thought so,” She replied, and Bernie could just see it, could just picture Serena’s wicked, _wicked_ grin as she heard another rustle of fabric, a soft _thump_ from across the line.

 

“Did you just…”   
“Take off my bra and trousers? Yes.”

 

Bernie gulped, hands scrabbling to the button and zipper on her own.

 

“No need to rush on my account, _darling_ ,” Serena’s voice was a lazy drawl, and Bernie scowled, fighting to get the tight fabric off her legs.

“Done!” She crowed, triumphantly, shucking her trousers off and throwing them atop the growing pile of fabric.

 

“Good girl,” Serena rumbled, again, and Bernie felt herself clench, moaned at the flood of arousal that made her thighs quiver.

“What now?” Bernie asked, hands returning to their previous ministrations.

“Well, well, Ms Wolfe. Aren’t we demanding?”

 

A husky chuckle stayed Bernie’s tongue as she moaned, long and filthy.

 

 _Two could play that game_.

 

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?”

“Aren’t you?” Bernie husked right back, running her fingers up and down her inner thighs.

“But of course. Would you like to guess which pair of pants I’m wearing, then?”

 

Bernie hummed in consideration, eyelids twitching as she flicked through her deepest fantasies.

 

“Mmm… Navy… Lace.”

“Ahhhh. Perhaps - perhaps in the future, my dear. Guess again.”

 

The hitch in Serena’s voice and the ensuing quiver in her voice drew another moan from Bernie, and she slid a hand down her her navel, slipped it down to rub lazy circles about her clit.

 

“Black, then. Cotton, no fuss.”   
“How unromantic, Bernie.”

 

The telltale rustling and _thump_ of fabric that signaled the removal of yet another article of clothing.

 

“Well, I suppose at this point it doesn’t really matter, does it? Seeing as you’ve _ruined_ them for this evening,” Serena sighed, and Bernie gave a nipple a quick pinch, her other hand delving deeper, teasing harder.

 

“Well now, doctor. You seem to have quite...disarmed me,” Serena mused, breathlessly.

 

Bernie said nothing, only panted through her nose as she lifted her hips, tugged her boyshorts off.

 

“Touch yourself, Serena,” Bernie gritted out, abruptly, sliding fingers through slippery, wet heat as she braced one foot against the coffee table, crooked a knee for better access.   
  
“With pleasure, Ms Wolfe,” came her answer, and Bernie gave in, forearm muscles burning as she listened to Serena’s harsh breaths, moans and groans and a litany of filthy, _filthy_ things that Serena desired, _needed_.

 

“What do you want, Serena?” Bernie gasped, one hand on her clit as the other built a rhythm, hips undulating in counterpoint.

 

“Your hands, your-your lips your teeth oh GOD your mouth, just - _you, Bernie_ oh God, _yes.”_

 

“Where?” Bernie demanded, panting as she clenched, let her legs fall open just a fraction more.

 

“On my- my-”   
“ _Say it, Serena_ ”

“Oh God on my clit, Bernie, anywhere, just _on me, in me_ , _anywhere_.”

“Are you close?”

“S-s-so close, so close, I- ah”   
“No, not yet. Not till I tell you you can,” Bernie commanded, sweat trickling to pool on her lower back, muscles straining as she arched off the sofa, the image of Serena, a picture of debauchery with her hand buried between her thighs flickering through her mind’s eye.

 

“P-please, please, Bernie, please, oh please-”  
“No.” Bernie’s exhale was harsh, and she threw one hand out, grabbing a fistful of a throw pillow as she slowed her pace, stilled her fingers’ movements to mere flutterings, within her.

 

“Are you being a good girl for me, then?” She husked, a dirty grin lifting her lips as she heard the answering whimper.

 

 _Turnabout was fair play_.

 

“Yes, yes, _Major_ ,” Serena moaned, and Bernie’s hips twitched, involuntarily.

 

_Well then. You learn something new about yourself every day._

 

“Good. I want you to take your fingers out. Slowly, now.”

 

A juddering breath as Serena complied, and then -

 

“Yes, Major.”

“Good girl. Now I want you to touch your clit, Serena. Imagine it’s me; imagine my tongue, my mouth. Just gently taking it in, sucking. Can you do that for me, Serena?”

“...Yes, _yes._ ”

“Yes, _what?”_

“ _Yes, Major_ ,” came the whimpered reply, and Bernie felt a tingle of triumph creep up her spine, build slowly, low in her belly.

“Now, imagine my fingers, Serena. Just one, sliding in, and _oh_ you feel so good, Serena. So, so good.”

 

Panting slightly, Bernie resumed her earlier rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as she mumbled commands.

 

“And another, Serena. Doesn’t that feel good, mmm? I can’t wait to do this again, Serena, when we’re in the Cotswolds. What was it you said, Serena? That _we can do what we like for as long as we want to and be as loud as we want to be whilst doing it?”_

 

“Ah, ah - yes, _yes, please_ -”

“I can’t wait to make love to you all weekend, Serena. My mouth on you, over and over, oh God - to touch you, taste you, mark you. I can’t wait to _fuck_ you, properly - and I’ll have you so many times, Serena, because you’re _mine,_ all _mine_ , and you’ll do what I say, because you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes yes, yes _Bernie_ please, please oh- so close-”

“ _Come,_ then.”

 

Bernie’s wrist _ached_ , but she continued, increased the fevered pace of her thrusts as she listened to Serena fall apart, choked breaths and muffled moans as she herself crashed over the edge, saw starbursts streak across the back of her eyelids as she keened, curled into herself, shuddered with the aftershocks.

 

The thudding in her ears faded, eventually, and she heard her name, shaky and uncertain.

 

“Bernie?”

 

She swallowed, took a deep breath.

  
“Yeah.”

“Bernie, did we just…”

“...Yeah.”

“Ah. Are you...Are you ok?”

 

The hesitation in Serena’s voice hitched Bernie’s breath and she exhaled, sighed happily as she slid her fingers out, wiggled them in contentment.

 

“Oh yes. More than ok,” she murmured, and was relieved to hear an answering chuckle.

“Good.” A pause, and a rustle of sheets. Bernie smiled lazily and let her eyes slide shut, stretched out unabashedly on her sofa.

 

“Thank you, Bernie, that was...fun. And you should know - I’ll be holding you to everything you said... _Major._ ”

 

And with that, Serena hung up.

  
Bernie laughed, barks of laughter ringing about her empty flat as she tipped her head back, rested both hands on her belly.

  
What a weekend they were going to have.


	4. (Closet) Online Shopaholic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie develops a worrying online shopping habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello? Is anyone still reading this thing? 
> 
> I'm sorry it's been oh, just a short 5 months since I've updated this thing. Real Life, and all that. But yes. Here's something to ease us (me) back into this universe... 
> 
> As always, i'm not a smut writer, but I try. Please do note the rating change; I should have rated this E right from 2nd chapter, but as I said - not a smut writer, not used to tagging thus. 
> 
> Thanks, as always to my brilliant brain twin [ lindsey_grissom ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom) (aka [ muddlethrough ](www.muddlethrough.tumblr.com)) for betaing for me. I'd never get anything done without her. 
> 
> Let me know if you want our two lovelies to get up to more fun sexytimes before I send them Cotswolds-ward. 
> 
> Have fun, guys. Comments feed the author!

Two weeks and three days.   
  
  
That’s how long they had before they were Cotswolds bound. 

  
By her estimation, Bernie had, at best, two more days to order...whatever supplies she might need if she wanted them to arrive safely within the window of time she had. Browsing Lovehoney.co.uk had become rather routine now, and she blushed at the fact. Who’d’ve thunk that she’d become a theoretical expert on sex toys, at her age?   
  
  
“Not that you ever needed them before, old girl,” she muttered as she clutched at her glass of pinot grigio, scrolling through the selection of gags and handcuffs and shrugging.  
  
  
“Don’t think so. Not for now, anyway,” she murmured, taking a hasty gulp of wine as the image of Serena, blindfolded by black silk, willing and kneeling at her feet, hands bound behind her back with yet more silk temporarily short circuited her brain.  
  


“Focus, Bernie, focus,” she choked, glaring at her screen as she resolutely navigated away from the bondage equipment, starting to scroll through the dizzying selection of lubrication instead.    
  
  
“Let’s see… Water based lubricant? Is that what I want?”    
  
  
She clicked on a random bottle’s image and squinted at the description. 

   
“... suitable for use with most silicone based toys…”   
  
  
Well. That’ll do, then. 

  
Scrolling down further, she read the enthusiastic comments in the comments section. Before blinking and clearing her throat.   
  
  
“Well then, good to know some people have had a good time recently.” 

  
Scrolling back up, she thoughtfully clicked on the “+” sign to add a bottle to her basket.   
  
  
“This stuff doesn’t go off, right? Might as well get a couple more. Serena would approve, she does love a good bargain,” Bernie reasoned, clicking through to another product and weighing the pros and cons of attempting to unilaterally purchase flavoured lubricant.  
  


“But what’s the  _ point  _ of flavoured lube?” She wondered aloud, and immediately blushed again as her imagination helpfully supplied her with the image of Serena, once again on her knees, taking Bernie (and her  _ valuable investment _ ) in hand, and then in tongue, cheeks hollowed and eyes glinting with devilish humour.

 

“Oh,  _ so not helpful, _ ” Bernie moaned in frustration, crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs.    
  


She clicks the “+” button on the bottle of strawberry flavoured lube.    
  


“She likes strawberry,” Bernie reassured herself as she navigated away, barely blinking as she scrolled past the anal beads (she’d gotten over the shock of those sometime last week) to explore the selection of bullet vibrators available.   
  


“Remote controlled. Hmm… That could be fun, I suppose, though…”   
  
  
The flush on Bernie’s skin had nothing to do with her long abandoned wine and she raced through the comments on the top-rated remote-controlled bullet vibe. Testimonial after testimonial had her squirming in her seat and she could not help but replace the anonymous pleasure seekers with herself and Serena, scenario after scenario playing out in her mind like the best form of personalised erotica.   
  


“… In the _supermarket?_ The bread aisle? Really!?”  
  
  
The cheery confirmation that _yes, really, and that’s how my husband made me come twice in the time it took me to get our weekly shop together_ stared back at her onscreen.   
  
  
“I mean. At least do it when the poor woman was sitting down, or something. What if her knees had turned to jelly?”  
 

_ You’d be seated at a cosy pub lunch _ , Serena’s voice murmured traitorously in her mind, and Bernie moaned, long and deep and in defeat as she flopped back onto the sofa, shoved an impatient hand down her trousers. 

   
“ _So not helpful_ ,” she wailed, rubbing furiously at her clit as she squeezed her eyes shut, felt and heard Serena’s  presence all around her, imagination working far too well and arousal far too intense for her to care very much any more.   
  


Imaginary Serena was as much a tease as her real life counterpart, and Bernie panted through her nose as she wiggled a little, squeezing her thighs as she imagined Serena’s voice, low and measured and just the right side of  _ torture _ , somehow making describing the process of making duck confit the  _ dirtiest, sexiest  _ thing Bernie had ever heard. Imaginary Serena was, of course, in full possession of the remote control for the little toy that she’d slipped into Bernie in the bathroom stall earlier, pressed along the length of her back, with a warning nip to her ear that she’d be rewarded well if she were to be  _ a very good girl, always so patient _ ,  _ putting up with the whims of a poor, washed up, middle-aged bisexual like me.  _

   
“Please, Serena, please, _”_ Bernie gasped, pleading with her imaginary lover, and she whined at the ache in her wrist, thrusting her hips as she imagined Serena ordering ice cream for dessert, looking her in the eye as she ate it, agonising lick by agonising lick. 

_  
Yes, of course, Major. Anything for you, Berenice _ , ice-cream Serena said, eyes burning as she looked Bernie in the eye, and Bernie took the permission where she got it, curling her fingers just so and quaking, rubbing her thumb against her clit with wild abandon as she let the aftershocks rumble through her, shoulders shaking with the effort. 

 

She roused when her computer screen flashed at her, helpfully reminding her that she had items in her basket that would expire if she didn’t check out soon.   
  
  
Trembling, Bernie used her free hand to scroll back up the page, past the supermarket-orgasm comment.   
  
  
Resolutely she jabbed the “+” button to add the remote controlled bullet vibe to her cart. 

   
“I’m going to live to regret this,” she muttered as she pulled her other hand free, wiping it down on her trouser leg.   
  


Because really, giving Serena Campbell permission and the  _ equipment  _ to tease with was the equivalent of handing her a loaded bazooka.

   
(the net effect: obliteration of all rational thought, and quite possibly dignity, for an afternoon or two)  
  


Bernie sighed, two parts resignation, one part happy pleasure. She poked around the website a little more, deciding to stock up on more lube. 

  
“We  _ are  _ menopausal women, after all,” she mused, even as she added a bottle of kiwi flavoured lubricant to her basket. 

  
(never let it be said that Berenice Wolfe didn’t have a sense of adventure)   
  


* * *

 

She was just confirming her purchases when her mobile buzzed, lighting up with a message from Serena. 

   
“Just out of theatre. Starving and exhausted. Jason out tonight. Will reward with kisses and cuddles if someone turns up at mine with takeout and wine.” 

 

Bernie grinned at her phone, swiping away the email notification confirming her purchases to answer the text. 

 

“Thai or Chinese?” is all she replied, and was rewarded with a quick “u choose” and a kissy emoticon. 

 

“Thai it is, then,” Bernie muttered, stretching as she stood. She put in an order with their usual place and dashed into the shower, blushing a little at the state of her pants.    
  
  
“Oh, Serena. The things you do to me,” she said fondly as she washed off, dragging on yet another pair of (moderately) clean black jeans.   
  
  
She rummaged around her closet for something more comfortable to wear and settled on a burgundy t-shirt, v-necked and worn soft in recent months by a certain vascular surgeon’s request.

  
(burgundy was, after all, her favourite colour) 

 

A spritz of perfume and a quick dab of moisturiser and she shuffled into her loafers, shrugged on her coat and was out the door, briskly walking towards the corner shop that had lately started bringing in quality shiraz.   
  


(Bernie didn’t know if she should be worried that her purchase history on Serena’s behalf alone had resulted in such a change in policy)

  
Buying a bottle, she glanced at her watch, picked up the pace to arrive at Serena’s just as the delivery lad pulled up. 

 

She paid, and then let herself in, wandered through to the kitchen to plate up. 

   
Serena announced her arrival with a mildly colourful swearing session and a clatter of keys on the sideboard.   
  


Bernie could only shake her head with a smile and picked up the glass of shiraz she had poured earlier, turning to greet her frazzled host as she stomped into the kitchen. 

  
“Hello,” she hummed, handing Serena the glass and making no comment when Serena drained half of it before acknowledging her, setting the glass down on the countertop and stepping close for a hug. 

 

“Long day?” she asked gently, and felt Serena nod against her chest, her face buried against Bernie’s shoulder. 

   
“Come on. Food, and then a shower, and then bed,” she soothed. 

   
“You’ll stay?” Serena mumbled into her shoulder and Bernie kissed Serena’s forehead in silent agreement.  
  
They ate together one-handed and mostly in silence, Serena reaching out to hold Bernie’s hand halfway through her plate of pad thai. Her knees pressed against Bernie’s under the table and Bernie found herself enjoying the casual contact, let herself bask in the everyday affection shown to her by this extraordinary woman.  
  
  
“So, what’ve you been up to today, then?” Serena asked, later, curled up next to Bernie on the sofa with the remains of their wine.   
  
  
“Oh, this and that. Hoovering, laundry. Bills.”   
  
  
Bernie didn’t quite know why she omitted her online shopping shenanigans, but blushed anyway, raking her fingers through Serena’s hair in an effort to distract her.  
 

“Is that all - ohhh don’t stop, that’s good,” Serena moaned, burrowing closer, encouraging Bernie to give her a neck rub.   
  
  
“More or less,” Bernie said wryly in reply, but Serena was too far gone, blissed out on the strong fingers digging into the tension in her neck, her shoulders.   
  
  
Bernie diligently continued her efforts, only stopping when she felt Serena begin to drift off, a dead weight plastered along her side.   
  
  
She nudged Serena, pushing gently with her shoulder until Serena was sitting upright once more, wearily dragging a hand down her face. 

   
“Bed?” She yawned, and Bernie nodded, standing and offering her hand to Serena. It was taken with a fond smile and the same soft sincerity in Serena’s eyes that floored Bernie every single time.   
  
  
“Ten minutes,” Serena promised, waving Bernie towards her bed with a lazy hand, leaving her with a kiss at the threshold of her bathroom. Bernie nodded, shucking her trousers, bra and t-shirt, and fishing in Serena’s drawers for the old RAMC shirt that had mysteriously been abducted from her flat.  
  


She pulled it on and was just eyeing her pile of clothes on the floor, contemplating the merits of folding them versus leaving them be, when the bathroom door cracked open, the scent of Serena’s bodywash wafted gently into the room.   
  
  
“Your turn,” she said, clad in a dressing gown and towelling at her hair. 

   
Bernie snapped off a quick salute with a grin and loped towards the bathroom, stopping by to nuzzle noses with Serena.  
  
  
“Oh, you. Off with you! Quickly, some of us need our beauty sleep,” she chided, and Bernie squeaked as Serena sent her on her way with a firm pinch to her behind.  
  
  
Teeth cleaned, Bernie stepped back out to the welcome sight of Serena huddled under the covers, hair endearingly fluffy and eyes ever so soft. She glanced at her pile of clothes and huffed a laugh at the sight of them; folded and placed neatly on a nearby chair. Serena was so predictable, sometimes.  
  
  
“Come on, then,” came the call from the bed, and Bernie complied, sliding in close to Serena with a grateful sigh. They shuffled about, settling finally with Serena’s ear pressed to Bernie’s chest, arm draped carelessly about her midriff. Bernie dragged her fingers up and down the length of Serena’s arm with gentle fingers, burying her nose in Serena’s hair and breathing in the very essence of her.  
  
  
“So. What else did you get up to today? You said more or less, just now,” Serena mumbled sleepily against Bernie’s sternum, and Bernie’s fingers slowed, tapping against Serena’s elbow in careful thought.  
  
  
“Mmm. Some online shopping, I suppose.”   
  
  
“Oh? For what? Anything useful? Any good deals?”   
  
  
Serena seemed to perk up a little at that, planting one hand on Bernie’s tummy to lever herself up and grinning down at Bernie’s grumpy face. 

 

“Oof. Eh, not much. Just browsed some...stuff.” 

 

She scratched her temple, lifted her shoulders in a quasi shrug.   
  
  
“Bernie…”  
  


“What?”   
  
  
“What are you not telling me?”   
  


“Nothing!”    
  
  
Even in the dim light, Bernie saw Serena’s eyes narrow dangerously, and she cringed, bracing herself for the inquisition to come. 

  
“Bernie…” 

  
“Fine. I was on...lovehoney.co.uk.” 

  
“Lovehoney…?”   
  
  
Serena’s brow furrowed and Bernie gulped, counting the seconds before Serena realised.   
  


“Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”   
  
  
“Yeah. Erm. That.” 

 

Serena collapsed back down into Bernie’s arms and giggled against her chest, sneaking a warm hand under Bernie’s t-shirt and a devious thigh between Bernie’s legs. 

 

“Buy anything  _ fun _ , then?” 

 

Her voice was a purr and Bernie wailed internally, cursing herself for not learning to lie better.    
  
__  
  
Walked right into that one, you did, old thing . 

 

“I - uh-” 

  
“Only I expect you to _share_ , of course. We _are_ equals, after all. And it wouldn’t do for poor old innocent me, so unwise in the ways of Sappho, to explore such uncharted territory all on my lonesome, would it?”   
  
  
Serena’s voice was flirtatious suggestion personified and Bernie continued her internal wailing (pausing a little to cringe at Serena’s corniness; she suspected both the cringing and the wailing might be a disturbingly common occurrence in this relationship) as she felt Serena’s hand creep higher, brush the underside of her bare breast. 

 

“Serena - I-  _ ahem _ -” 

 

“I am but a humble student,  _ Major,  _ and can only claim practical knowledge in a few areas.  Limited, of course, by the fact that I only really have ever had  _ one  _ specimen to test my hypotheses on. And you know what they say, you never can trust an experiment done on yourself. But now...now I have another specimen to work with, and I look forward to carrying out further experiments to see if the results will be...substantially the same.”    
  
  
Serena’s lips brushed Bernie’s jawline as she murmured her intentions, her thumb tracing lazy circles around Bernie’s nipple. 

 

“ _ Serena _ -” 

 

“Mmm… So… Buy anything today,  _ Major _ ? Anything to punish me for when I’ve been naughty…” 

 

A gentle bite to Bernie’s shoulder.  
  


  
“Or anything to reward me for when I’ve been  _ nice?”  _

 

A kiss, pressed lovingly to the blossoming mark. 

 

“...”

 

“I’m waiting,  _ Major _ ,” Serena rumbled, shifting to straddle Bernie proper.   
  
  
“...Yes…?”   
  
  
Bernie’s hands involuntarily found themselves around Serena’s waist, and her fingers dug into the soft flesh there, flexing against the arch of Serena’s back as she pulled Serena close, closer. 

 

“Oooh. And what, pray tell, did you buy,  _ Berenice _ ?”    
  


Bernie swallowed and stared up at Serena, a blush creeping up her chest, up her neck.   
  
  
“...Lube…?”    
  
  
Serena nodded her approval.   
  
  
“Practical. I like that about you. Anything else…?”  
  
  
“I-uh-”   
  
  
“Nouns would be good, dear.”   
  
  
Bernie cleared her throat for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. 

  
“Uh- a remote-controlled…”   
  
  
She waves a hand, approximating the size of the bullet vibe with her fingers.   
  
  
Serena practically  _ lit up _ at the mention of it. 

   
“Oh, _yes,_ ” she breathed, and Bernie stifled a squeak as Serena shifted, grinding down onto Bernie with intent.   
  
  
“ _Serena!_ ”   
 

“Oh I can’t  _ wait _ , Bernie. When are your… purchases due to arrive?”   
  
  
Bernie paused before replying; very tactfully failing to mention her  __ previous purchase.  
  
  
“Ah, erm, three to five working days…?”   
  
  
Going a little cross-eyed as Serena leaned down, barely a hairsbreadth between them.   
  
  
“In time for the Cotswolds, then,” Serena murmured and kissed Bernie fiercely, hips undulating languidly as she snuck another hand up Bernie’s shirt, palming Bernie’s breasts possessively. 

  
“Serena, I-”  
  
  
Bernie broke away, panting slightly, and felt the shift in Serena too, the sudden dip in energy as her hips slowed, her eyelids drooped.   
 

“Mmm… Yes?”   
  
  
She stifled a yawn against Bernie’s shoulder and Bernie sighed, stroking a hand down Serena’s back. 

  
“What happened to beauty sleep?”   
 

Serena sighed, long-sufferingly, but conceded Bernie’s point, shuffling to lie next to Bernie instead of on her.   
  
  
“But I don’t wanna…” she pouted, and Bernie smiled indulgently, nudged Serena so she was spooned comfortably against Bernie’s chest, Bernie’s arm secure about her waist.   
  
  
“We’ll have all the time in the world in the Cotswolds, my darling. Sleep.”   
  
  
Serena’s response was a sigh and a vague nod, and Bernie pressed a kiss to her shoulder, glanced one last time at the glowing red numbers of Serena’s alarm clock. 

  
Two weeks, two days and seventeen hours to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. lovehoney.co.uk really does exist, and is really not bad, from what I can tell.
> 
> P.P.S. Ok to be fair this wasn't really too smutty. Pretty domestic, in fact. But I couldn't help myself ;P


End file.
